The Widow at Zarephath

"Mama, what does death feel like?"

The question hung heavy in the hot air as she walked carrying her son to what she believed would be their final resting place.

"I'm not sure, son. But it can't be worse than this."

"Will it hurt? Is God going to come and get us? Will we see what He looks like?"

"I sure hope so, baby," she grunted as she reached what could hardly be considered home--two poles with a small thatched roof barely meeting the poles with the vine twined loosely around the top. Two small holes were dug in ground--one for food going in, the other for waste going out--nothing in either one lately.

She laid her son in the corner of the hut and prepared to cook what she believed would be their last meal together on earth. After that, she was prepared to die.

She went outside to gather sticks to make a small fire to cook their bread. As she bent down to gather a couple of smooth limbs from a nearby bush, she heard the shuffling of feet behind her.

"Who is this coming to my home this time of day?" she wondered. When she looked, there stood a man, hunched over--obviously hot, tired and thirsty. She had nothing to offer him. Then he spoke, "Please bring me a little water in a cup, that I may drink." Reluctantly, the widow withdrew back into her tent to get a cup of water from her water pot. As she dipped the cup for water, she heard him call out again, "Please bring me a morsel of bread in your hand."

The widow laughed within herself. Maybe there was a time when she could have happily spared some bread--maybe even some preserved figs to go with a lunchtime meal. But that was a far gone memory. Back before her husband died, leaving her alone to raise a son. Before the drought that dried up all of her crops and all of her land was laid waste.

Today, there was not a morsel to be spared--only enough to make a last meal before resigning to what seemed like her fate, and that of the fruit of her womb--death. Her flour bin was almost empty, and so was her soul.

She peeped her head out thru the threadbare cloth that served as the door to her tent, "As the Lord your God lives, I do not have bread, only a handful of flour in a bin, and a little oil in a jar; and see, I am gathering a couple of sticks that I may go in and prepare it for myself and my son, that we may eat it, and die."

The man of God offered no sympathy for her hopeless fate. His response seemed rather selfish at first. "Do not fear; go and do as you have said, but make me a small cake from it first, and bring it to me; and afterward make some for yourself and your son."

'Make some afterward for me and my son?' The widow laughed. He must not know how little flour she had. And the jar of oil had already been turned upside down so that the last remnants could make its way into her kneading bowl. There would be nothing left after cooking for him. He was asking for her last.

But then, there was a promise.

"For thus says the Lord God of Israel: 'The bin of flour shall not be used up, nor shall the jar of oil run dry, until the day the Lord sends rain on the earth."

She heard a word! A word that reversed her death sentence and that of her future. A word of hope, of promise and of provision. And all that it would cost her was her last.

The Bible says that the widow went and did according to the word of Elijah; and she and he and her household ate for many days. The bin of flour was not used up, nor did the jar of oil run dry, according to the word of the Lord which He spoke by Elijah.

God knew that the widow's faith would outweigh her seeming fate. How do we know? Because God specifically sent Elijah to her home, instructing him that He had already commanded a widow there to provide for Elijah during the drought. The widow's heart was already prepared to make the sacrifice. Hers was a faith that superseded her situation.

She had a heart for the things of God. She recognized the man of God when he came on the scene and she believed the word of God to the point of being willing to sacrifice what she could see in exchange for the promise of what she could not.

What does this say to us as women in the 21st first century? In a world where everyone's voice can be heard and individuality is worshiped over collective unity; where death looms daily over our hopes, our dreams, our plans and our families--where does our faith lie? How can we expect God to move the mountains in our lives?

First we must recognize that it is bigger that us.
The widow was not only concerned about herself, but her future as well. Her son would die along with her--death was looking to consume not just her, but any hopes of leaving a legacy in the earth. There are some things that don't affect only us. If we fail to allow God to revive the dead places in our lives, it will affect generations to come and cut off our future. Can't stay in a healthy relationship?  Don't be surprised when your daughter jumps from man to man. Tend to allow your anger to get the best of you? Watch those behaviors show up in your son. We must allow God into those dead places--those places where sin has taken root in our lives--and allow Him to heal and bring us into life and wholeness in Him.

Secondly,  we must learn to recognize the voice of God.
Whose voice are you listening to? Who gets most your attention? Facebook? Your Twitter feed? Instagram? When's the last time you turned off all of the external voices around you and spent time alone with God? Many of us have become so accustomed to the noise of the world, that we have to re-learn how to hear that "still, small voice" of God that Elijah talks about in 1 Kings 19. Because Elijah knew the voice of God, he knew that it was not in the wind, the earthquake or the fire that came upon the mountain. He waited until he heard it in the still small voice. What are the winds, earthquakes and fires that make up the cacophony of your world? Many of us are looking to hear from God in big, loud sounds or gestures, and so when He gently knocks on the doors of our souls, we don't recognize Him. God uses man to convey His Word--so much so, that He became one and dwelt among us to speak to our hearts and help us see the Word in the flesh.

Finally, we must act on what we've heard. 
The Apostle Paul tells us that faith comes by hearing and hearing by the Word of God (Rom. 10:17). The widow's faith moved her to act. She knew what she had, but she wasn't sure of what was coming. Yet, she was willing to give up that in her hand in order to receive the promise God spoke to her heart through the man of God.

You know that feeling you get in church when it seems the preacher spent the previous night looking into your hom? It's as if s/he walked right into your living room, sat on your sofa and kicked his/her feet up on your table. The read you like a book, and you didn't even realize your life was on the shelf to read. Well, that's God speaking through His sent man/woman. So, now that you've heard the Word. Now that God has asked for the sacrifice, what are you going to do?

The widow had two options--go with what she had and die or step out on her faith and let go of what she had to receive the life she was promised.

What do we need to let go of today that we might live? Whatever God is asking you to exchange for life in Him, I pray that you find the faith to live! May we trust God with our almost empty so that He can fill us up and breathe life into the dead places in our souls.

Until the Divas meet again, I remain...

In and for His service,

Jabaria
The Divine Diva